It is a short walk from gym class to history. All she has to do is walk up several flights of stairs and down a hallway. It takes about three minutes to complete the trip. Those three minutes are the most significant ones of her entire day. She looks forward to them, dreads them, loves them, hates them.
When the bell shrilly announces their arrival, her heart beats faster and she hefts her bag onto her shoulder. The time has come.
She shuffles slowly down the hallway through a sea of blurred faces. Her friend talks excitedly beside her, but the words don’t register. She’s scanning the crowd. He’s easy to find; his height makes his face stand out above the rest.
But where is he? She knows his path by heart; this is the corner where she passes him every day. No sign of him. She feels an overwhelming wave of despair. Where is he?
There. One face stands out clearly to her among the blurred crowd. She has only a few seconds to look at him: the face she once knew so well, the arms that held her, the fingers that used to lace themselves through hers with such ease.
For one eternal moment, his icy blue gaze meets her despairing brown one. Those azure eyes used to watch her so fondly at her from only inches away; now they are worlds apart. Memories, emotions, unspoken words pass between them in just one glance. Then, with a small shake of his head he walks on.
Suddenly she becomes aware of the rest of the world surrounding her: the hum of voices, the students scurrying quickly through the hallway to reach their class before the bell. She feels the urge to look back and watch him disappear down the hallway, but she does not. Squaring her shoulders, she continues the journey to history class.
There are twenty-three hours and approximately fifty-eight minutes until the bell rings again at the end of gym class. She can’t wait.